The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1887-02-24
THE BASILISK.
A STORY OF TO-DAY.
CHAPTER NXlrI.


TRArPED AND TRAPPED AGAIN.
Buried alive! The overwhelming
horror of this idea had the effect Of
thoroughly recalling my scattered
senses. / remembered going to Mr..
Beaufoy's study. the interview, and the
sudden fall into insensibility and dark
ness. The chair to which Mr.. Beaufoy
had. with marked persistence, invited
me, was trap; doubtless he imagined
trap of death.
! raised myself, at first with some
pain and difficulty, and endeavoured to
look aboutme. The darkness, however,
was too thick to allow of my getting
any idea of the depth had fallen. or Of
the nature Of my prison. Iascer.ained.
however that had fallen upon heap
Of loose mould, which seemed to have
recently been thrown up, and which
had certainly saved my bones, if not
my life, for all about / felt the hard sur
face of = concrete floor.
In my pocket was box of wax
matches. / remembered it with JOY,
and was on the point Of striking .
light to relieve the horror of
the unknown darkness, when sud-
denly the imprudence Of such a course
occurred to me forcibly.
Whatever happened, or whatever
might be intended to happen, it was
certain that my fate would be further
cnqnired into, and in the desperate cir
cumstanccs in which was now placed,
it was not my cue to give any sign Of
life, or to prepare my enemies for any
further opposition or resistance. /
carefully replaced the matchbox in my
pocket deriving a distinct comfort from
the sense of power which the possession
of the means of securing light con-
ferred upon me. And SO for awhile /
sat upon the heap Of mould in the dark
ness.
After while the inaction became in
supportable, and the darkness and
silence began to play fantastic tricks
could no longer withstand the craving
for light.
struck a match, and In a moment
all imaginary terrors were dispersed.
The clear flame Of the wax yesta dis
closed A spacious cellar or vault, with
wcll-bricked sides and concrete floor
At one end was a door. which
examined, and found to be locked
Over the spot where had fallen l
could dinly make out the machinery of
the spring trap-door. through which /
had been 50 suddenly precipitated into
captivity. The earth upon which /
had fallen was newly-turned. In shape
and disposition it recalled the idea of a
newly filled grave.
] started back with a feeling of
snpersiilious terror. This must be
Hardy's grave! And even at that mo-
ment feeling of reinsurance filled my
spirit. Ii my surmise were correct,
this grave had saved me from injury.
should be spared vet to bring this
murderous household to account. But
meantime? How to act? And what
were the intentions of my enemies?
Again | struck light and carefully
examined the cellar-door. 1t had little
in common with the heavy ill-hung
door, such as had been accustomed
10 in my childhood's home. whose
fastenings were as ponderous rs they
were ineffective. This door seemed
massive and heavy enough, but it fitted
closely. was polished and new in APP
pearance, and scarcely ratified at all in
answer to my emphatic. though guarded
attacks. returned in respondent
frame to the spot where had fallen,
and new horrors began TO crowd in up.
on my mind Mary was now defence.
less, and Ii was even more so. Did
they mean t. leave me here to starye?
1t was not impossible. Or would the
stealthy assassin who had already, in
intention, slain income upon me,
cnfeebled and unarmcd, and consult
at once his malice and his security?
If he would only come soon-soon,
while my strength was unimpaired
soon. while my spirit was unbroken.
Armed or unarmed, alone or with his
miscrcant creatures at his back,
would give good account of Herr
Professor Plowitz before he sent me t.
my own.
Ha! Is it fancy? Is it the blood
snrging and throbbing in my temples
that makes those streaks Of light visible
afar? No; it is real light shining more
and more clearly in the darkness
through the crevices Of the door. The
stiffness is broken by the sound of the
turning lock, and as sink back upon
the heap of mould, a figure appears at
the door, throwing the light of the
lamp into the cellar, and shading his
face with his hand. Who is it;
Satisfied. seemingly, with my immova.
bility, he turns the key in the lock, and,
with the kcy-ring on his finger, advan.
no. it is Mr.. Bcaufoy. l lie rs still as
death. and. yet between my ha!f-closed
cyclids watch his approach. He slips
the keys into his pocket, and then sec
something shining in his hand, glitter
ing now and again us the rays Of tht
lamp fell upon it. 1t is long dagger,
and over his arm hangs long cord!
He stands looking ut me. Calm
precise, not without some traces of be'
nevoience, he stands with lamp in one
hand. and dagger in the other, contem-
plating the man whose death he has al
ready essayed to compass, and which
he has now come to assure. Like the
picture of the scientific man in "Viv-
isection,' Mr.. Beaufoy calmly and
thoughtfully regarded me. kept
down as well as could the wild throb-
bing of my heart, depressed the impa-
tient promptings of revenge. He was
satisfied at length with an inspection
that seemed to me Intern Unable.
Not killed. he said softly. Tut,
tut, tut! Fancy our having dug Hardy's
grave SO Immediately under the trap
door! That was Plowitz's fault.
Plowitz is always wrong when he al
lows himself to be in hurry. Well,